Queen Helena and David rode side by side, their horses moving in quiet harmony as the palace grounds gave way to forest. Sunlight filtered through tall, orderly rows of trees, their trunks standing like silent sentinels. The air felt cooler here, heavier somehow. Alive with the scent of damp earth and old leaves.
It was David who noticed it first.
He lifted his right arm, palm facing down, signaling her to stop.
Helena reined in her horse at once, "What is it?" she asked, her voice low.
"I heard another horse," David replied, "No. Two..."
They listened.
At first, there was nothing but the rustle of leaves and the soft breathing of their mounts. Then, unmistakably, the steady rhythm of hooves echoed between the trees, drawing closer with deliberate intent.
Moments later, two riders emerged from the shadows.
Their horses were large, black, and powerful; war-bred. The men astride them wore dark armor dulled by use, swords strapped firmly across their backs. They came from the same direction Helena and David had traveled, as if they had been following them all along.
One of the men inclined his head, "Your Majesty."
Helena's spine stiffened instantly.
Her gaze flicked to David, then back to the stranger. Soldiers, she realized. Not ordinary guards. There was something colder in their posture, something practiced. For a brief, unsettling moment, she wondered if they were even fully human.
She nudged her horse back a step, fingers tightening around the reins.
"Do not be alarmed, Your Majesty," the man said smoothly, "We are emissaries of His Majesty, King Nimrod."
"The army?" Helena asked, her tone sharp.
A faint smile touched both men's lips, "Yes, Ma'am."
"Dismount," Helena commanded.
David glanced at her, startled by the steel in her voice. As the soldiers obeyed, his thoughts drifted unwillingly to that morning in the library, her tired eyes, the way she'd looked as though she hadn't slept at all. They were newly married, yet something invisible stood between them. He had felt it then. He felt it now.
"Where are you headed, Your Majesty?" the emissary asked as he stepped closer.
"That is none of your concern."
His eyes finally settled on David, a thin smile tugging at his lips, "How curious," he murmured, "Does His Majesty know you roam this deep into the forest with a servant?" His gaze sharpened, "A low-life human, no less."
The word servant dripped with disdain.
David said nothing, but heat rose in his chest. He refused to give them the satisfaction of a reaction.
Helena did not.
"He is worth more than your king," she snapped, fury blazing in her eyes.
David turned to her, stunned. All he saw was her standing between him and the men who would gladly see him broken.
The emissary laughed softly and stepped closer, his hand reaching out to stroke David's horse as if testing a possession. His eyes locked onto David's, "This?" he said mockingly.
"Enough," Helena warned.
"His Majesty has ordered your immediate return to the palace," the man said, straightening, "Both of you."
"I will return when I choose," Helena replied, "I am your Queen."
The forest seemed to hold its breath.
The man sighed deeply, as though burdened by the inconvenience of obedience denied.
"So be it."
In one swift motion, he drew his sword.
Steel flashed.
The blade struck David's horse low and hard. The animal screamed a raw and awful sound before collapsing to the forest floor. David cried out and leapt down, falling to his knees beside the horse, hands shaking as he pressed against its neck.
Before he could move again, cold steel pressed beneath his chin.
Helena screamed, "Stop it this instant!"
She dismounted and ran to them, fury and horror warring across her face, "Is this how you enforce loyalty? By slaughtering innocent creatures and threatening unarmed men?"
The emissary smiled, calm and cruel, "Time is precious, Your Majesty. Refuse us, and he dies as the horse did. We are not here to negotiate."
Helena's breath came unevenly.
David looked up at her, his eyes filled with quiet pleading. He didn't speak a single word.
Her hands curled into fists at her sides.
"…Fine," she whispered.
The sword lifted. David was dragged to his feet and bound to one of the soldiers' horses. The lifeless body of his own mount lay behind them, already fading into the stillness of the forest.
They turned back toward the palace.
Helena rode in silence, her vision blurring as tears slipped free without her noticing. Guilt crushed her chest, not only for David, but for the blood spilled because of her choices.
She was Queen of Witteland, yet in that moment, the crown felt less like a symbol of power and more like a burden she could barely carry.